


Sniffles

by Squid_Ink



Series: The Eagle and the Cross [6]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Connor is adorable in this, Cute, Dad!Haytham, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I have no excuses, Illness, Kenway family feels, drown in the fluff, it totally got outta hand, modern day AU, so sweet it'll rot ya teeth!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 09:37:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5864248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squid_Ink/pseuds/Squid_Ink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor gets sick and Haytham takes care of him in the middle of the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sniffles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MohawkWoman](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=MohawkWoman).



Connor swung his backpack into the box by the kitchen, coughing a bit as he did so, before heading into the kitchen. "Ista, Ista, I'm back," he called with a sniff. Ziio turned to see her boy, looking like he just woken up. Connor sniffed and rubbed his nose with the back of his hand.

"Don't do that Ratonhnhaké:ton," Ziio chided as she came over, snagging a tissue and wiped her son's nose. "How was school?"

"Okay," the boy mumbled. "Ista, I can do it myself." Connor took the tissue and blew his nose. "Dad's gonna be home tonight or is he working late?"

"He said he'll be home tonight," Ziio replied, parting her son's hair, "said he'll be home around dinner."

"That's a first," Connor grumbled.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, your father works very hard to provide for this family. He has a very demanding job," Ziio told her son sternly.

"How is being a lawyer demanding? He sits behind a desk all day."

"Ratonhnhaké:ton," Ziio growled, smacking his cheek lightly with her fingertips.

"Sorry," Connor mumbled, grimacing as he rubbed his cheek, even though the smack was more shocking than painful.

"I'll make you some tea—"

"Can you make it like Dad does? With biscuits?"

"Biscuits?" Ziio arched a brow.

"Oh… Cookies. Tea and cookies?"

"No, you aren't getting cookies. You're ill," Ziio said, with her hands on her hips. Connor pouted, juggled the used tissue from hand to hand before tossing it into the wastebasket. It hit the rim, tittered before falling in.

"Score!" Connor pumped his fist into the air. "See, I'm not—" a coughing fit over took him. "Sick…" he croaked.

"Very convincing, take a bath, get into your pajamas and crawl into bed. You aren't going to school tomorrow, I'll bring you up some chicken soup and tea," Ziio said, pointing to the stairs.

"I'm not that sick," Connor protested, only to cough into the crook of his arm. "It's just a cough and some sniffles."

"Right, and I thought I had a 24-hour stomach flu, turned out I was pregnant," Ziio said and pinched her son's cheek, a teasing smiling on her lips. "Now, go do as I say."

"Fine," Connor sighed in an overly melodramatic fashion. He walked with dramatized heavy footsteps and slouching as he climbed the stairs. Ziio shook her head, before opening the cupboard and grabbing a can of chicken noodle soup. She turned the electric kettle on as she headed towards the stove.

* * *

Connor looked up from his Gameboy as the door opened. "Connor," Haytham said, "How are you feeling?"

Connor gave a nonchalant shrug; sniff loudly. "Okay," he said, glancing at the clock on his nightstand. "You're back early."

"I told your mother I'd be home in time for dinner," Haytham said as he entered the room, hands clasped behind his back. "See she already fed you." Haytham looked at the mug of half-drunk tea, "Didn't drink your tea, though."

"She didn't make the tea right," Connor grumbled, going back to his video game, "and she didn't give me any biscuits." He heard his father chuckle at his comment.

"At least I instilled good taste in tea, the rest we'll work on," Haytham said and sat down on Connor's bed. He pressed the back of his hand against his son's forehead. "Well, at least you don't seem to have a fever." He ruffled Connor's hair before setting his hand into his lap.

"It's just sniffles. I'll be better by tomorrow," Connor said, smiling up at his father. "You'll see."

"Uh-huh, when did you get so wise in the ways of illness? You're only what, five?" Haytham said.

"I'm nine Dad," Connor replied, looking up at his father. "You should know that, we went to the zoo and I rode the pony and the monkey threw poo at your face."

"Yes, that terribly rude monkey," Haytham agreed wistfully. "I remember now, you laughed so hard soda came out your nose. I seemed to recall that I would punish you if you ever so much mentioned that again."

Connor snorted. "Like you'd really follow through on that."

"Oh, my dear boy, you misjudge me," Haytham said in a dramatic spooky voice, "I always follow through on my threats! C'mere you, time for your punishment!" Haytham declared and began to tickle his son. Connor squirmed, laughing loudly, the blankets of his bed getting tangled around his legs. "Beg for mercy!"

Connor took in a breath to beg, but instead went into a coughing fit. Haytham stopped his tickling, resting a hand on his son's back. He could feel the cough vibrate through his son's small back and hear the wet rasp of the hacks as Connor seemed to try to expel his lungs. The coughing fit passed as soon as it came on. "Mercy," Connor wheezed, "Mercy Dad, mercy."

"Haytham, dinner!" Ziio called from the base of the stairs.

"Be there in a minute!" he shouted back. "Now Connor, I want you to focus on getting better, just stay in bed and I'll bring you some proper tea after dinner."

"I'm not that sick," Connor protested as his father rose to his feet and picked up the tray with the bowl and mug on it.

"No, but you're well on your way to getting there," Haytham said, and closed the door to his son's room. Connor gave a frustrated groan before going back to his game.

"Oh, a Pikachu, I need one of those," he said to himself.

* * *

He didn't care if he got in trouble or so something horrible in there. He'll break the sacred rule of not entering his parents' room after bedtime just this once. His head hurt and he felt hot and cold at the same time. Connor wondered how he got worse, it was just a case of the sniffles right? Connor twisted the doorknob to his parents' room and slipped it.

It was silent. Connor glanced around at the decorations in the room, mostly tribal items that his mother made, though the cross cutlasses were his father's. Apparently, an ancestor was a pirate and the swords have been passed down from father to son since the 1700s. The Pride of the Kenways, he remembered his grandfather telling him once, when he came to visit from England. Connor suppressed the urge to cough, before he made his way to his mother's side. "Ista?" he shook her arm. "Ista, wake up I don't feel good."

Ziio muttered something in her sleep, twitched her arm and rolled over. Connor sighed and swallowed several times to keep from coughing. He looked over his shoulder at the wall, where pictures hung. Most of them were pictures of him from the day he was born to now, some where of his parents, and in the center of the picture collection was their wedding photo. His parents got married twice, one in the English fashion and the other was the traditional Mohawk way. Connor still thought his father looked extremely out of place in traditional Mohawk clothing.

The boy made his way around the bed, to his father's side. Haytham's nightstand had three-way picture frame, on the left most frame was a group photo of the men he worked with, Connor stuck his tongue out at it because it had Charles Lee. He hated the man because the man always treated him like he was some terrible pest. Well, the feeling was mutual. In the middle was a picture of his parents together and the final one was him. The rest of the items were his father's phone, book, and alarm clock. "Dad," Connor said reaching out and shaking Haytham's shoulder. "Dad, wake up I don't feel good."

Haytham woke up, grumbling in a sleep voice. "Wha… Charles…"

"I'm not Charles Lee!" Connor snapped, and gave into a coughing fit. He felt his father's eyes on him. "I don't feel good," Connor repeated.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton?" Ziio asked, waking up. She pushed herself up slightly to look over Haytham's shoulder.

"Go back to sleep, my dear, I'll take care of it," Haytham said.

"You have work in the morning," Ziio protested, she glanced at the watch she wore at her wrist, "it's two in the morning, you have to be up in four hours."

"I'll manage, go back to sleep," Haytham said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

"Hm." Ziio snuggled down into the bed again, wiggling into Haytham's warm spot once he vacated it.

"Alright Connor, let's go," Haytham said, hand on his son's back to steer him out of the room. He grabbed a robe as he did so.

"Sorry that I woke you," Connor mumbled once they were out of the room.

"Nonsense, it's my job as your father to take care of you, even if it's in the middle of the bloody night," Haytham replied, walking down the stairs, his son by his side. He glanced at Connor. "Don't pout, we'll watch late night reruns of the Munsters and the Three Stooges."

"You have to work tomorrow," Connor said.

"And I'll manage, I'll call in sick if I have to," Haytham said, steering his son to the kitchen and turning on the light. He began to rummage through the drawer. "Where is that blasted thing… ah, here it is," he pulled out a thermometer, "stick this under your tongue." He put it into Connor's mouth before pressing the button. He began to make tea and get children's cold/fever medicine. The thermometer beeped and Haytham took it from Connor's mouth. "A hundred degrees, well you do have a slight fever," he grumbled as he set the thermometer down and poured out the dose of medicine. "Drink this," he said.

"Is it grape? I hate grape," Connor grumbled, eyeing the medicine suspiciously.

"Drink it Connor, it'll make you feel better. Don't think to try my patience. It's too early in the morning for such antics," Haytham growled. Connor huffed, taking the offered medicine and swallowed it one gulp.

"Ugh, it was grape!" Connor gagged.

"Here's the cough syrup, it's not any better," Haytham said, handing him another little plastic cup. Connor huffed, put took that too, making a face as well. Haytham tossed the cups into the sink, put away the medicine and the thermometer before leading Connor to the couch. "Let's see what mindless show we can watch for a few hours," Haytham muttered. He found reruns of the Three Stooges, and lied down on the couch. "C'mon, snuggle close," Haytham said. Connor grinned, and wormed his way between his father and the couch.

They stayed like that for a few moments, chuckling at the antics on the TV. Connor yawned, eyes getting droopy and fingers fiddling with a loose thread on Haytham's pajama top. "Dad… did you can Ista get married because of me?"

Haytham glanced down at his son. "What brings on this question?"

"Well, it's just that… I knew you and Ista separated before I was born and you guys got married shortly after I was born… so, I just thought… never mind, I'll go to sleep now," Connor whispered and placed his head on Haytham's chest, listening to his father's heartbeat and steady breathing. He stiffened when he felt his father's hand on his back.

"Connor, tell me, what did you think?" Haytham urged, gently. Connor looked away.

"I just thought that… maybe… maybe you didn't want me, and that's why you left, only you changed your mind and came back," Connor mumbled, before hiding his face in his father's armpit. "I'm sorry… don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," Haytham said. "The reason your mother and I split, briefly, was because some things in the case I was working on didn't go… right. The man got off when he shouldn't've because the cops didn't do their jobs properly, which led me to not doing my job properly. Your mother didn't understand that so she blamed me and left. She called me a few days before you were born to tell me she was pregnant," Haytham said, remembering that phone call.

* * *

He never expected her to contact him after their break up, he was content to live out his days lonely and loveless, drinking away his woes with the others at the DA's office. Any chance he had at a family dashed to dust. Yet, she had called and he came. He certainly wasn't prepared for her being pregnant or the pathetic way she looked at him. Maternity clothes didn't really suit Ziio, it made her look twice as old, oppose to the twenty-nine year old he knew her to be. "Haytham," she muttered, her slim and on her stomach.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in way of greeting. She glared at him and he wondered what he said or implied to cause her to glare at him like that.

"Come in, I'll explain," she said leaving the door way and waddling towards the couch where she sat down with a sigh. He glanced around in the hallway before entering her tiny apartment and closing the door behind him. He walked over to the couch and sat next to her. They lapsed into an awkward silence.

"So… uh… I'm the father right?" Haytham asked, then realized he probably shouldn't've said that, began to back-peddle, "I mean… even if I'm not the father, I'd love the child as if it were my own."

"You're the father," Ziio said in a weary voice, though there was a smile on her lips as she ran her hand over her belly. "No other man would put with me long enough to get into my bed." She gave a little amused chuckle. "Other than you."

"I'm flattered," he said. "Any names? Is it a boy or a girl?"

"A boy, his name will be Ratonhnhaké:ton," Ziio said, "though I also like Connor as a middle name. I knew a Connor once… an old friend from my hometown, died overseas."

"Connor is a good name," Haytham said with a nod. "Why didn't you tell me, Ziio? I… I would've stayed, I would've done something," he took her hand and recklessly said, "I love you."

She stiffened, refusing to meet his gaze, instead staring at a picture frame that was face down on the end table. "You're hear now, that's all that matters. I didn't even want to tell you, but Achilles instead."

"Well, at least someone can get through to you," Haytham muttered, thinking of the old man Ziio was friends with. "It's cleared up now, Braddock is in prison for life."

"I read it in the papers," Ziio said, she looked at him. "Why did you come back?" she asked.

"You called and told me you were pregnant, I had to come. What was I supposed to do? Congratulate you on your coming bundle of joy?" Haytham asked, before standing up. "Look, I'm sorry about the Braddock mess, I never meant to lie to you. I thought it was a slam dunk case, open and shut, the cops fucked up on their end and… I felt terrible about the fact you thought I used you in some fashion," he looked at her, like a kicked puppy, "truly I am."

"Haytham, I know. I called you to… I want you… I want you be in your son's life," Ziio said. "That's why I called. I want… I want us to try and make amends."

"Of course, Ziio," Haytham said, sitting next to her. "Of course I'm willing to work through our problems and put our relationship in order." He looked way, sighing and ran his hand through his hair. "I am willing to —"

"Shh," Ziio said, pressing a finger to his lips and taking his other hand. She pressed it against her swollen abdomen. "He's kicking," she whispered, a grin on her face. Haytham frowned, not feeling anything for several heartbeats but then suddenly a tiny foot or maybe a hand pressed up against his palm. He thought his heart stopped for a moment as disbelief and joy mixed within him, a smile spreading across his face.

It was real, so very, very real. A new life was within Ziio, a being created out of love for each other… their son. "Ziio," was all Haytham managed to say.

The next days happened quickly, and the labour was the worst part, at least for him. Ziio took everything in the same steely stride she always had and birthed a healthy baby boy on April 4th. Haytham walked into the room in the maternity ward holding a stuffed bear with a blue t-shirt that read _It's a boy!_ And set it down on the table besides Ziio. She didn't notice, too entrance with the baby in her arms. "Look Haytham, look at our son," she whispered and he peered down at the baby, fast asleep, in her arms.

Haytham stroked the child's soft cheek and if by instinct the baby, no… it wasn't just a baby, it was _his_ baby, his _son_ … Connor; wrapped his tiny fingers around Haytham's.

"You're crying," Ziio noted.

"I'm not," Haytham protested, as he wiped at his eyes, "just got dust in them… that's all." He heard Ziio snort in derision.

"Hold him," she said and offered the sleeping newborn to him. He balked, trying to think of an excuse to not hold his own child, failed and awkwardly accepted baby. Connor whimpered at first, not liking being shifted between his parents, but he settled down once Haytham brought him to his chest.

"Hello Connor," Haytham said, "I'm your father… Haytham… welcome." Haytham smiled, before looking at Ziio. "Marry me."

"What?" Ziio arched her brow.

"Marry me… please," he said.

"Do it properly and I'll give you my answer," Ziio replied. Haytham rolled his eyes, but agreed, thankful for that phone call.

* * *

Phone calls… he should make one and tell them he can't come into work today. It was already four in the morning and he was still up, though Connor was fast asleep on his chest. He shifted, swinging his legs off the couch and scooping up his son, who snorted in his sleep. Haytham walked up the stairs, set Connor into his bed, before heading to his own. He crawled in on Ziio's side and pulled her up to his chest.

"You're back late," she mumbled.

"Took a trip down memory lane," he said, "I'm calling in sick today. Just too tired to deal with work."

"Hmm… or you're coming down with something," Ziio said as she rolled over and touched his forehead with the back of her hand.

"Nonsense," Haytham said, pulling his head away and pecking her lips, "I'm—"

"Ista? Dad?" Connor called, Haytham and Ziio looked at each other and then at their son, who was standing in the doorway.

"Ratonhnhaké:ton, go back to bed," Ziio whispered.

"No… I… can I sleep with you?" Connor asked. "I don't feel good and…"

"Come here," Haytham said.

"Haytham," Ziio protested.

"It's late, I'm tired, he's sick and tired, it's easier to just let him stay with us then fight about it," Haytham sighed as Connor crawled onto the bed and wormed his way between his parents. Haytham smiled as he felt his son sandwiched between him and Ziio.

"Dad, Ista… I love you," Connor whisper.

"Love you too," Ziio replied.

"Yes, indeed, love you too," Haytham muttered sleepy before pulling his wife and child closer to him and fell asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Assassin's Creed (c) Ubisoft


End file.
